Heartfelt Acting Deserves Some Heartfelt Applause

For years now, I have enjoyed theater on both the Mainstage and Second Stage at South Coast Repertory. What a thrill to watch actors and actresses take risks. Without the special effects or easy gimmicks of movies, they try to touch me, knowing that I am not only viciously jaded but also sitting right there in the room. They often succeed.

In “Holy Days” on the Second Stage, Rosie (Jeanne Paulsen) and Gant (Richard Doyle) fall sobbing into each other’s arms over the death of their young son. I sob with them. I can’t help it. I believe them. And I’m only three feet away.

Before Juliet finally dies and falls over Romeo’s body, I keep hoping that someone has rewritten the ending. No one has, and I am emotionally drained. So is the cast.

However, at South Coast Repertory, the tragedy begins when the play ends.

In seven years of watching theater at SCR, I have never seen or even heard of a standing ovation. The sweating, exhausted cast members, regardless of their gift to us, are always dismissed with a few ho hums and 17 seconds of polite applause. The cast tries to smile but always seems to look embarrassed. If I was an actor, I would hate to work in Orange County.

At first, I thought our lack of passion seemed sophisticated--you know, give us a really good play and we’ll roar our approval. Not anymore. The law of averages holds that seven years of theater would have to produce the occasional burst of excitement. It hasn’t.

Orange County theatergoers always look and act dead, but I think we are just being dishonest. At least, I hope that’s the problem. It is with me. Often, I have wanted to stand up and scream my approval, stamp the floor, make a scene, catch the cast off guard. I almost want to applaud loud enough and long enough to say “Thank you.” But I don’t. I am a coward. I can’t bear anyone else’s knowing that I felt something. I think others feel the same way: touched, but scared to admit it.

We cowards not only cheat the cast, we cheat ourselves. Just imagine how much fun it would have been to have “brought the house down” for some of the more stellar performances at SCR. To have been part of a cheering mob that demanded five curtain calls, that just wouldn’t let it end, that wanted to hang on to the experience as long as possible. To have witnessed a breathless and vulnerable Juliet or a Josie cry openly as we tried to give back what they gave us. That’s theater! Honesty! Catharsis!

But no. We go home to quietly read about great theater in Orange County.

JULIAN WHITAKER, Newport Beach